Spiral Dance
by Lady Sashi
Summary: The Last in The Wheel of the Year Series. WARNING: This Story contains mention of Wicca and Witchcraft, if this offends you DO NOT READ! I won nothing.


**A/N: Wiccan Sabbats span two days, due to the days being measured from sunset to sunset at that time, as opposed to sunup to sunup, like they are today.**

**A Spiral Dance is a way of dancing in which to raise power with a group of people. It can also be done as an act of celebration and greeting. I thought this would be a fitting for the last, of a, hopefully, beloved series. Blessed Be!**

**WARNING: This story contains content of Wicca and Witchcraft! If this offends you, DO NOT READ! **

Spiral Dance

The Wheel had begun to turn once more, and the quiet grace of winter began to yield to the robust life of spring.

Rogue was quickly becoming exhausted with having to elude her constant shadow. Logan had, unbeknownst to her, picked up quiet a few tricks from her, not the least of which was using the art of scrying to find her again and again.

Her monetary supply was quickly dwindling, and she really didn't know where she could get more. If she stopped for any amount of time, he would find her again.

Rogue pulled over to the side of the road about a mile and a half from the next town and pushed her bike into the bush to hide it. She'd had to be smart about things ever since the Wolverine had started tracking her.

But he seemed to forget there was a little Wolverine in her too.

This time, though, he was tracking her for his own reasons.

The memory of the months before slowly stirred to the surface. She was now able to control her mutation, with the training she had taken to in the Craft, in learning to control energy within and without her.

The result had confused them both, and had caused her to run.

Logan had searched for her everywhere, but she had somehow been able to block his scrying attempts. He sat in the back of the bar going over things in his head.

That last encounter all those months ago came rushing up, and the resulting memory made his blood burn, searing the Adamantium that ran through his body.

Logan fingered the small lump in his breast pocket.

He needed to find her, he thought, as his mind and body reeled with the faint smell of incense and herbs that drifted to him. He thought he was going crazy, but the sight that met his eyes as they snapped open, forced his heart into his throat.

A whiff of a long dark coat as it rounded the corner.

Rogue leaned against the outside corner of the building, growling at the twisted sense of humour the Fates had. She had been blocking Logan's attempts to scry for her, and had been making her way as far north as fast as she possibly could.

And she had found the exact man she was trying to avoid by sheer serendipidous chance.

Rogue pulled up her hood and rounded the corner intent on gettting back to her bike and getting the heck out of Dodge. A sense of foreboding crested over her just before the snickering assulted her ears.

"Well you're a pretty thing, aint you", the sneer came from one in group of drunken men. Rogue ignored them and kept on walking. "Hey, I'm talking to you"!

She was grabbed and spun against the wall so fast, she barely had time to think. When his mouth crashed down on hers, she let her power prowl.

When the man dropped, she expected the rest to run screaming. Instead they picked up planks of wood and began to block her in.

Rogue went down in a crouch intending to roll out from between them and maybe get in a few choice shots while she was at it.

She had just enough time to put up an enegy shield before they started assulting with legs and boards. The attempts bouncing off the solid, if invisible shield, as they attempted to smash through it.

The cries of "Mutie!", were enough to propel Logan out of the bar and into the scene that was unfolding outside.

He saw a small group of drunken, frightened men, beating against something with legs, knees, fists and planks of wood. He could scarcely catch a glimpse of the dark figure crouched protectively against the wall, and thought his eyes were playing tricks on him as he noticed the blows were landing solidly, but not actually touching the prone figure.

The Wolverine exploded into action, tearing two men away while the others were flung back several feet seemingly of their own accord. Scrambling to their feet, Logan unsheathed his claws and shredded the discarded planks of wood like a hot knife through butter.

That was all any of them needed.

Logan turned toward Rogue and stopped after his first step. The air around him, a full three feet away from her, crackled and it felt like he was walking through a wall of electrified water.

He dropped to one knee looking for an opening, his hands where he touched the barrier came away with combination acid-electrical burns which took a little too long to heal.

He sighed and sat back on his heels, fully prepared to wait. The sun had gone down, and he doubted those shields she had up were keeping her warm.

After a few monutes, the wall dropped, and he crept closer to her, only to come up against the hard protective shield she had used to fend off the attack.

She was smarter this time, and had learned from her mistakes.

This time, no one got in.

Logan lightly put a hand up, the barrier was hard and smooth, but didn't burn like the other had; just kept things out.

Kept him out.

He felt the bubble flicker and then drop. He moved his hands toward her, and she all but tumbled into his arms when he was close enough to reach her.

Logan paced back and forth restlessly, he had retrieved the bike and had taken them to a decent motel with a decent room.

He watched Rogue as she slept, and he thought.

She had been a mutant with a mutation that made her a force to be reckoned with, that not barring the powers she could absorb and use, or the knowledge. He had helped train her, both by what he had left with her, and what he had taught her outright.

Everyone she had touched had helped train and shape her to some degree.

Then you added to that strength the power and knowledge she had gained from the Craft...

She used her power well.

The Rede she adhered to would make sure of that, but still, sometimes even the Wolderine was scared of her.

Logan glanced at the wall calender in the room, thought for a minute, and then left.

When Rogue awoke, it was near dusk, she had slept the whole day through.

That's not what puzzled her though.

As she looked around, she noticed the room was lit with blue, red and green candles, and flowers filled the room and the air. Dinner was sitting on the small table by the window, a small, delicately and deliberately arranged feast.

For the briefest of moments, she was confused, then she remembered something she had been too tired, too destracted to remember.

And almost cried.

Logan finished pouring the glasses of mead, and shifted the flowers in the center of the table, before helping her up out of bed and over to a chair, which he pulled out for her.

"You remembered".

"Well I couldn't very well let you forget, not after all the fun last year".

Rogue smiled sadly, it had been a good memory, but the problem was, it would have to stay that way.

There was no going back.

Not now.

Not ever.

Logan's eyes sparked, like he had just remembered something. He pulled a small wrapped box from his shirt pocket and set it by her hand.

Rogue looked up suspiciously, he still kept up with this.

She wanted to cry.

Rogue slowly unwrapped and opened the box.

She held up the delicate chain of amber and jet beads, and couldn't help the tears.

Amber and jet were the mark of a witch of rank, a highly personal gift; and the fact that it had come from someone else, that someone else had deemed her worthy of the honour...

She was even more touched that he had taken the time to research the tradition.

Logan walked round behind her chair, waited, and brushed her hair aside. Rogue head placed a reign on her mutation, so he wouldn't be harmed.

Unclasping the silver chain that held the Adamantium pentacle he had given her last year, he slid the chain off and replaced it with the new one. As he reclasped the new addition, he bent and kissed her neck where the clasp fell.

Returning to his seat, he raised his glass, "Happy Beltane Marie".

Maybe it was the mead, maybe it was the candle light, or the scent of the flowers. Maybe it was the way he said her name, or the new found freedom in being able to control her power, and her life. Or maybe it was just the holiday working it's magic.

Rogue raised her glass and drawled, "Happy Beltane Logan".

And throwing caution to the wind, she invited him to test her focus and control of her power under the most intimate and distracting circumstances either of them could think of.

It was Beltane after all, and they made more than sure they understood the meaning of the holiday.

All two days of it.


End file.
